


Collide Together

by sassybell (karenec)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Post Star Trek Into Darkness, Romance, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:46:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenec/pseuds/sassybell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he pictured himself up there in the black, moving in the spaces between the stars, Jim Kirk pictured Leonard McCoy at his side. That said, Jim knew that the doctor was not like him. McCoy did not want the stars. McCoy wanted an anchor of his own to keep him grounded to Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collide Together

Whatever perceptions people had of Jim Kirk--whiz kid, libertine, all around cocky bastard--he was no fool. Messing around with friends was risky, and the closer the friend, the more one stood to lose if (when) the relationship went bad. That knowledge never stopped Jim from messing around with his own friends and acquaintances when the mood struck him, of course.

After a year at Starfleet Academy, Jim had plenty of acquaintances. He also had a friend in Leonard McCoy. They were an unlikely pair with vastly different experiences and perspectives borne from their upbringings and six-year age difference. Jim was impetuous; McCoy was deliberate. Jim yearned for the stars; McCoy (in spite of his declarations against his ex-wife and the institution of marriage) yearned for earth-bound roots.

Jim saw past McCoy's gruff exterior to the gifted, dedicated man who never hesitated to put the needs of others before his own. He respected McCoy and their friendship, recognizing each as rare and special after years of watching the people he valued disappear.

So Jim knew from the first time he kissed McCoy that it was up to him to keep things from getting serious. Jim had grown used to having McCoy in his life, and come to count on him; the idea of losing that friendship to dramas of the romantic type was something he refused to entertain. Besides, he _liked_ the doctor too much to hurt him.

The trouble with kissing McCoy, however, was that it felt so good and warm and ... disarmingly _right_. They stood in the kitchenette of their quarters, reaching for one another over the remains of their dinner, Jim's whole body responding as McCoy's mouth met his own. Heat raced through him as those soft, full lips opened underneath his, moving with a slow sweetness that made Jim’s heart pound and his hands grasp.

Jim pulled back to look into McCoy's eyes--all gleaming hazel irises and wide pupils--and swore. “Goddamnit, Bones.”

He kissed McCoy hungrily, sliding his tongue inside the doctor's mouth, relishing McCoy's rumbling groan, exquisitely aware of the hands at his waist, pressing heat through his shirt and into his skin.

McCoy pulled away next, dipping his head to nip at Jim's jaw with his lips, drawing him in with a sigh when Jim hummed in approval. "Was that a no?" McCoy murmured between nibbles, "or a stop? Cause all you gotta do is say so, Jim, and--"

"Jesus, Bones, stop talking." He captured McCoy's jaw with the fingers of one hand, his lips muffling the doctor’s grunt as they fumbled their way toward the bedroom. "Don’t want to hear anything out of you but my name when I make you come."

McCoy muttered something about bossy little shits before he obliged not much later, thrashing underneath Jim in the bunks they'd pushed together, his come spreading warm and slick between them while Jim gasped against his neck. McCoy gave as good as he got, too, once he’d recovered, and chuckled as Jim arched and twisted under his hands and cock, voice hoarse when he called out McCoy's name and came.

Jim fought not to lose himself in the rush of sex and sensation. Because that's what McCoy's touch was like: a rush eerily similar to the stims that Jim had used back in Iowa, when he'd been mostly numb and searching for something to make him feel, if only for a moment. McCoy's sleek, toned body throbbing and trembling, his voice whispering filthy things that made Jim's stomach coil, his broad hands pulling pleasure from Jim's very bones: all of it, _everything_ , was heady and sweet and instantly addictive.

Without a word, Jim pulled himself back, his gut clenching as pleasure and unspoken emotions played over his friend's beautiful face. Later, lying wrapped up with McCoy in the dark, Jim recalled the grim lessons he'd learned as a child about protecting himself from being hurt or left behind. The difference this time, he knew, was that his was not the only heart that needed sheltering; McCoy needed protection, too, from both Jim and himself.

~oOo~

It was easy to coax the doctor out to Abbott's Tavern the next evening; later, Jim wondered if McCoy had been expecting what happened next all along. He scanned the crowd with bright eyes and a knowing smile, aware of McCoy's gaze following him, silently measuring Jim's words and actions. They were both a little drunk by the time Jim elbowed his friend in the ribs and nodded toward the far end of the bar.

"Finally find yourself a playmate, kid?” McCoy's expression and voice were dry. “It's been over an hour--I was starting to think you'd lost your mojo."

Jim squinted at McCoy. "Bones, who says shit like 'mojo'? What does that even _mean_?"

"It's a noun, Jim, defined as a seemingly magical power that allows someone to be very effective and or successful.” McCoy's right eyebrow arched playfully. “I can't believe you don't know this."

"I can't believe that you _do._ " Jim felt a surge of fondness. "Then again, I really should quit being surprised by you, Bones. Every time I think I've got you figured out, you prove me wrong."

McCoy glanced away with a short, hard laugh. "That makes two of us, kid." He took a long pull of his beer before tilting his head toward the bar. "So which one is it--the Denobulan in the leather jacket?"

"Ooh, interesting choice, Bones, but no. The blonde in reds over by the jukebox." Jim grinned when both of McCoy's brows rose. "Ensign McCarty is in my Interspecies Ethics class and she is, like, supernova hot. Smart, ambitious, legs for days--"

"So, Jim Kirk with tits," McCoy interrupted, smirking when Jim gaped at him. He drank again, throat working as the last of his beer slid into his mouth and Jim pretended not to notice. The clink of McCoy's bottle against the table top when he put it down seemed very loud. "I won't wait up."

Jim frowned as McCoy got to his feet. "Where are you going? McCarty's here with her roommate, Bones. The roommate's just as hot _and_ she's on the Medical Track."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Spectacular. So not only is she most likely ten years younger than me, she's probably one of my _students_ , too. Nothing like turning a standard painfully awkward moment into something truly epic."

"Don't be like that, Bones," Jim protested as McCoy slipped into his coat. "So what if you're her T.A.?"

McCoy glared. "You _knew_ she was my student? What the hell, Jim?"

"You need to stop being so negative, man. The night is young!"

"Yeah, and this man is old." McCoy shook his head. "I'm callin' it a night, kid. Have fun doing everything I wouldn't do."

"You're being lame." Jim put on the puppy dog eyes in a last ditch effort as the doctor turned to go. "You're no fun, Bones!"

"I never have been, Jim!" McCoy's crooked grin made Jim's chest twist.

That wasn't strictly true. McCoy could be a lot of fun when he was in the mood. His default moods wavered between charmingly cranky and downright misanthropic, but he had a wicked sense of humor and a sharp wit that he delighted in using, particularly to make Jim laugh. Despite complaints about being too old (another fallacy, given the man wasn’t even out of his twenties), too busy, or too doctory, McCoy relished trying new things. He found the best dim sum joints and bookshops, and could be counted on to indulge Jim's whims for last second travel and bad movies. He didn't always like the live music shows that Jim dragged him, but invariably showed up with an open mind, a flask to share, and a set of earplugs in one pocket.

Jim thought he ought to remind McCoy of these things as he crossed the bar toward Ensign McCarty. Between the girl and McCoy's trauma center shifts, though, it was almost twenty-four hours before Jim even saw the man again, and by that time, McCoy was asleep in his bunk, dead to the world.

Quietly, Jim took his PADDs to his own bunk, slid off his boots, and stretched out to study. He glanced up now and then, eyes skittering over the slumbering doctor, frowning as he took in his friend's unusual pallor and the dark circles under his eyes. When the light in the room changed and cooled, McCoy shivered and Jim got to his feet to cover McCoy with an old quilt he kept at the end of the bed. Jim stood, hardly breathing, until McCoy quieted and rolled over with a sigh, and then returned to his PADDs and his vigil.

~oOo~

Men and women (off-worlders too) filtered in and out of Jim’s life as time passed, pretty people who were rarely more than temporary distractions from his studies. That was okay with Jim; he wasn't looked for anything more from strangers.

McCoy remained a fixture among the transitory figures, steady and dependable, more present in Jim's life than Jim’s own family. McCoy was an anchor and one of very few people in whom Jim placed his faith. When he pictured himself up there in the black, moving in the spaces between the stars, Jim Kirk pictured Leonard McCoy at his side. That said, Jim knew that the doctor was not like him. McCoy did not want the stars. McCoy wanted an anchor of his own to keep him grounded to Earth.

It felt only natural for Jim to guard McCoy's heart as closely as his own.

~oOo~

Cadet Miranda Hawes was an Exobiologist who McCoy met during a seminar on alien reproductive rituals late in their second year at the Academy. She was slim and blonde with penetrating green eyes and a dry sense of humor. Her cool, almost clinical demeanor was a contrast to McCoy's fiery expressiveness, and Jim sometimes wondered what attracted one to the other.

The attraction _was_ clear, though, in the couple's lingering glances and touches, and more so when McCoy all but disappeared from the quarters he shared with Jim. Still, he made an effort to find Jim during mealtimes and to invite him and their other friends along when he and Hawes had drinks at Abbott's.

Jim chatted cheerfully with them over beers and fried food, ignoring the odd tug he felt in his gut when Hawes leaned against McCoy or the doctor took her hand with a grin.

"It will not last," Gaila murmured by his ear one night, her blue eyes bright when Jim turned to look her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowing when the Orion laughed, her lovely skin flushing a darker green with amusement.

"Your doctor and his friend," she replied, head inclined across the table to where McCoy and Hawes sat talking. "Their sexual entanglement will be fleeting." Gaila twisted a bright red curl of hair around one finger while Jim looked at her in question.

"It is just a feeling that I have," she explained, "an impulse more than anything. There is something in Leonard's eyes that I cannot place. I am not sure I can adequately explain, but I know that I am correct."

Jim said nothing for a long moment, unsure of how Gaila's words made him feel. "So they're not really ... entangled, so to speak?" he asked at last.

"Oh, no, they are--very much so." Gaila sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring delicately. "Leonard and the cadet were engaged in sexual congress only a short time ago, as a matter of fact."

Jim covered his eyes with one hand. "Wow, okay. Way more information than I needed to know, G." He peered at her from between his fingers. "Wait, you can tell just from the way they smell?"

"Certainly." Gaila's manner was airy. "Sometimes I can guess sexual positioning, too. Of course, humans are not particularly flexible, so the range of positions your species can achieve is fairly limited--"

"Wait, you can guess _that_ from the way people smell?" Jim interrupted in a near hiss. "Oh, my God, Gaila, how the hell do you get anything done?"

"It can be quite challenging, particularly because humans enjoy gathering in large groups." Gaila looked aggrieved. "Sporting events are particularly fragrant, for so many reasons."

Jim laughed so hard that beer came out of his nose.

Cadet Hawes watched, mystified, as Jim and Gaila fell apart giggling, leaning against each other for support. McCoy grinned, his changeable eyes shining indulgently before he beckoned to the waitress for another round of drinks.

~oOo~

In the end, Gaila was right: within a few weeks, McCoy's entanglement with Cadet Hawes was over and he was once again a regular presence in the quarters he shared with Jim. McCoy had nothing negative to say about Hawes, but didn’t seem sad to have said goodbye either.

“You know, I had no idea how much I like spicy food before meeting Miranda,” McCoy mused one evening over beers and a basket of onion rings at Abbott's. The doctor dipped a battered ring into a puddle of chili sauce with relish. “She’s got an aversion to chilies and curries--isn't big on spice in general. I thought I was gonna lose it if I had to eat another bowl of soba noodles in unseasoned vegetable broth.”

Jim's brow furrowed. "Is that why you were always looking for me at mealtimes?" He gave McCoy a sly look. "Were you stepping out on the missus for the sake of a good meal, Bones?"

McCoy shook his head as he chewed. "Miranda wasn't my missus, you jackass. And I looked for you at mealtimes because, for some reason, I like you and enjoy spending time with you." He smiled slightly when Jim looked at him. "If I could get some decent food too, well, I wasn't going to complain."

"So what happened?" Jim gestured with his beer when McCoy looked at him. "I refuse to believe that you broke up with a girl because you needed a chili fix, Bones. You two seemed to get along pretty well. "

"We did get along. Miranda’s pretty young, though ... she's not really looking to settle down right now. She was kind of pushing for an open relationship ..." McCoy trailed off with a shrug.

"Which you don't want," Jim concluded.

"I don't want it with Miranda Hawes, no," McCoy agreed thoughtfully.

Jim looked at his friend. "No offense, but I’m thinking you don't want that with _anyone_ , Bones. You don't seem like the kind of guy who likes to share his bedmates."

McCoy smirked. "Maybe my bedmates don't like to share me, Jim."

"Touché." Warmth curled in his belly. "Well, all this just proves my theory."

"Which is what exactly?"

"That Hawes was all wrong for you."

McCoy lifted his beer to his lips. "For your information, she was fun."

Jim made a noncommittal noise that made McCoy grin. "Do I want to know why you care, Jim?"

"Because, for some reason, I like you," Jim replied, throwing his friend's words back at him gently, "and I enjoy spending time with you." He met McCoy's curious gaze. "And you deserve to get what you really want, Bones."

McCoy gave Jim a lopsided smile. "Okay then."

~oOo~

Jim had no trouble understanding what attracted McCoy to Lita Chang early in their third year at the Academy. Lita was a civilian and part owner of an off campus bakery located near the trauma center where Jim sometimes met McCoy after his shifts. Jim estimated that Lita gave them a litre of free coffee and a dozens of raspberry macaroons and lemon polenta cake slices before it dawned on McCoy to invite the pastry chef with the smiling brown eyes out for a drink.

Jim liked Lita, even if her presence meant he saw less of McCoy outside of mealtimes and drinks at Abbott's. She was lovely to look at, funny and charming, and she brought out an impishness in McCoy that had been missing when he had dated Ensign Hawes. 

Watching McCoy and Lita together was more awkward than Jim had anticipated, though. His stomach twisted when her slim fingers slid over McCoy’s crimson collar and he looked away when McCoy leaned in to kiss her, the bar's low light shining over Lita's long hair and highlighting the curve of the doctor's cheek.

The strangeness of those moments lessened a little when Jim had a pretty young thing by his side, or when Gaila's warm hand slid into his. Jim would grin and flirt, but it didn't escape his notice that Gaila stayed largely silent on the topic of McCoy's latest entanglement.

So he was surprised to come back from class one evening to find McCoy in their kitchenette with his PADDs, two boxes of pizza, and a bottle of beer.

"There's extra cheese with tomato in the bottom box." McCoy wiped his hands on his napkin as Jim went to the fridge for a beer. "Three slices of pepperoni left in the top box, too." He shrugged when Jim glared. "Hey, I was hungry and your were late."

"I didn't know I was expected, Bones," Jim replied, piling the rest of the pepperoni slices onto his plate, "so, technically, I'm not late. What are you doing here, anyway? Lita kick you out for eating all the meringues?"

McCoy snorted. "Lita's packing, tonight, not baking. She gave me a box of pastries before I left, though--wouldn't be surprised if she included a few meringues for you."

Jim nodded, chewing his pizza thoughtfully while McCoy got up to grab the bakery box from the counter. "Is she going out of town?"

"Lita’s moving out of town, actually. Sold her part of the bakery to her brother and enrolled in culinary school, leaves for Providence tomorrow." 

Jim cocked an eyebrow at the doctor as he settled back into his chair. "Jesus, Bones. I know your fear of flying is better, but are you really ready for regular shuttle rides to Rhode Island?"

"Fuck no," McCoy retorted, his eyebrows drawing together so ferociously that Jim choked on his pizza. McCoy thumped him hard on the back with a grimace. "Don't die, Jim, or I'm gonna have to eat everything in that bakery box by myself."

"I'm fine," Jim rasped. He wiped his streaming eyes with his fist and took a cautious sip of beer. "So you and Lita called it off because you don't want to commute?"

"Yeah, we called it off. The commute didn't have anything to do with it." McCoy opened the bakery box and hummed appreciatively upon finding a turnover. He took a bite and sighed, chewing for a few moments before speaking again.

"Lita won’t even finish her culinary program until a year after I'm slated to graduate from Starfleet. By the time she comes back to the Bay area--if she comes back at all--I'll be off-planet somewhere … probably on a goddamned tin can with your sorry ass."

Jim kept his face carefully neutral. He and McCoy had spoken many times about their post-graduation plans, but this was the first time the man had really hinted that he'd be willing to join Jim out in the black.

"Anyway, it just seems unrealistic to carry on with the two of us moving in such different directions."

Jim frowned, waiting for McCoy to make a 'go ahead' gesture with one hand before speaking. "That doesn't sound like you, Bones."

"What doesn't sound like me?"

"I don't know ... I figure that if you liked her, you'd at least give it a try. You've always struck me as sort of a romantic." Jim grinned when McCoy barked a dry laugh. "No, really. You've got this bitter divorcee thing going on, but I think there's an idealist buried underneath the cranky exterior. You still believe in love, Bones."

McCoy shook his head. "Sure I do. But I'm a realist, Jim. The odds are stacked against Lita and me _without_ my being off-planet. Don't get me wrong," he said when Jim looked at him askance, "Lita and I had a good time together, but it didn’t go _deeper_ than that. We were more in like than in love."

Jim sat quiet for a moment. “Okay then. For what it's worth, Lita's cool. I like her, even if she's not right for you.”

McCoy chuckled. “Kid, you ever stop to think that I'm the one that's wrong for them?"

Underneath the teasing words, Jim caught a flash of something pained in the doctor's eye. McCoy rarely spoke of his ex-wife, but Jim knew him well; the old wound of that broken love still hurt. “I know what I’m talking about, Bones, trust me: when you find the right person, you’ll know it.

“And because you’re my best friend, I’m going to be brutally honest with you.” Jim reached for the bakery box solemnly and plucked out one of the coveted meringues. “I’ll fucking miss Lita's free coffee and desserts.”

McCoy smiled at him, the flush that stained his cheeks unfurling something in Jim’s chest. “You’re an ass. Meet me after my shift tomorrow, and I’ll buy you some cookies.”

~oOo~

McCoy kept in touch with Lita Chang and Cadet Hawes. Despite his grumpy front, he was a hard man to hate, which usually turned his breakups into friendships he could easily maintain. There were exceptions, of course, and one had only to look as far as his failed marriage to know that he didn’t often regret those rare losses. Losing Darren Hollis was another story entirely, and one that McCoy was powerless to control.

Cadet Hollis was on the Medical Track at the Academy, specializing in pathology. He was, by all accounts, a brilliant student with a spectacular future before him. He was absurdly handsome, with flashing hazel eyes a lot like McCoy's, and approached life with a single-minded focus that was intriguing rather than overbearing. Hollis was also very much smitten with Leonard McCoy.

From the start, Jim could see that McCoy was different with Hollis. There was an intensity between them that was missing with the women McCoy had dated, and the heat that burned in McCoy’s eyes when he looked at Hollis left Jim feeling hungry.

He wasn’t surprised when McCoy started sleeping away from their quarters. He felt disappointment when McCoy stopped showing up at meal times though, or comm’d at the last minute to postpone plans. Jim said nothing. He knew that McCoy wanted to get lost in someone, to surrender a part of himself to romance again. So Jim held his tongue and pushed away the empty feeling that crept over him when he saw McCoy making his way across the quad, the tall and lanky Hollis at his side.

Jim and McCoy still managed to meet for drinks and dinner at least once a week. They'd gossip (a little) and catch up, chatting with Hollis while Jim tried not to notice the man's arm around McCoy’s shoulders, his fingers brushing the side of McCoy’s neck, or the way he smiled when McCoy told stories.

When McCoy doted on women, Jim felt the need to look away. With Hollis, it was the opposite: Jim had to force himself not to stare. That said, watching them make out in Abbott’s back hallway hadn't been on Jim’s bucket list.

He’d been working out a way to share some news with McCoy when his comm chimed with a message that Jim had been waiting for. Ducking out the service door at the back of the bar, he messaged with Captain Pike before heading back inside, nearly stumbling over his own feet when a low groan cut through the muffled noise filtering in from the bar.

Jim crept forward to where the hallway opened up in two directions, the manager’s office on the right and the door to the bar on the left. He froze when a harsh exhalation reached his ears, and his stomach turned to stone when a familiar voice murmured a curse.

The smart option would have been to turn around and head out the service door. Jim's feet wouldn’t move though, so instead he peered left around the corner, his heart hammering when he recognized Darren Hollis pressing McCoy against the wall. McCoy’s hands were on Hollis’s face and they were exchanging messy, frantic kisses. His long fingers spread over Hollis's jaw, tilting the man's head back to expose his throat. Hollis gasped as McCoy's lips pressed into his neck, and he wound his long arms around McCoy, hands grasping urgently.

“Christ, Len,” Hollis rasped, nearly growling when McCoy let out a breathless chuckle.

Jim stood unmoving and unable to look away. He bit his lip at McCoy’s hum of pleasure, cursing silently as heat washed through him followed immediately by chagrin. The last time he had heard McCoy make noises like that, _Jim_ had been kissing him, _Jim_ had been running his hands over McCoy’s tight body, _Jim_ had been pulling McCoy so close he was sure they could crawl inside of each other.

For the first time, Jim asked himself if forcing McCoy back into the friend zone hadn't been his biggest mistake yet.

The abrupt rush of sound filling the hallway jolted Jim out of his reverie and broke McCoy and Hollis's embrace. Tense, he listened as wry apologies and laughter broke out among the three men in the hallway, then waited as noise crashed into the hallway again and the door to the bar reopened and closed behind them. Jim counted to sixty, counting his heartbeats until they slowed before he rounded the corner to follow after his friend.

McCoy was alone at their table with fresh drinks. He sipped his beer as he checked his communicator, looking to Jim like a one man oasis of calm in the midst of the cadets and locals buzzing around him.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked as Jim pulled up a chair, tucking his comm back into his pocket. "I haven't seen you for almost twenty minutes, Jim--was starting to think you ditched me."

Jim shrugged and picked up a beer, raising it toward McCoy with a nod. "Had to take some comms. I'm kind of surprised you're still here, Bones. Figured you'd be long gone by now."

McCoy scoffed. "You know me better 'n that, kid. I wouldn't leave without telling you first. I'm not a full time asshole."

"That's true." Jim couldn't hold back his smile; he loved grumpy McCoy. "You're more of a part time asshole. A hobbyist asshole."

"That's somehow really disgusting." McCoy grimaced. 

"Where's your boy?" Jim asked, careful to keep his tone neutral though he wondered how successful he'd been when McCoy's gaze sharpened.

"He's got a meeting with his advisor early tomorrow morning, and then he's shuttling up to the _Mayflower_ and _Endeavor_ with his roommate to get a look at the medbays. They’re being responsible and called it a night. Who’ve you got lined up to pay attention to tonight?"

Jim's eyebrows rose. "No one in particular yet. And you're still here why?"

"I have nowhere to be tomorrow morning," McCoy replied with a grin, "and no particular desire to be responsible. Who better to be irresponsible with than my friend, James Tiberius Kirk?”

The smile that worked its way across Jim's face was bright and genuine and beautiful. He didn't know why McCoy's eyes suddenly shone so fiercely, or why his own mouth went dry, but he was inexplicably moved that McCoy had chosen to stay with him.

"Okay then." He clapped a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "Next round's on me, Bones. You sure you're ready to hang out? I don't want to get in the way of sort-of young love," he said with a sly smile as a flush stained McCoy's cheeks.

"Don't worry about it, kid," McCoy replied dryly. "I'll catch up with Darren in a couple of days."

~oOo~

McCoy was wrong of course; he never spoke to Darren Hollis again. Two days later, the _Narada_ eclipsed everyone's consciousness. In the blink of an eye, Vulcan and most of its people were destroyed, and thousands of Starfleet officers and cadets had succumbed to the black. Darren and his roommate were gone, along with the crew of the _Mayflower_ and a generation of people who had aspired to do good in worlds away from their own.

Jim and McCoy didn't say much afterward, when the danger had passed and the _Enterprise_ was limping its way back home; there wasn't much _to_ say. Instead, they stripped down to their boxers and fell exhausted into the bed in McCoy's quarters, holding one another close. McCoy curled his arms around Jim's chest, pulling him in tight without a word. Jim pressed his back against the doctor's chest, eyes stinging at the warm whisper of breath against the nape of his neck.

"You saved us," McCoy murmured, shifting when Jim turned in his embrace. He let Jim's arms slide around him, and then settled Jim's head on his own chest, gently carding his fingers into Jim's hair.

"You brought me on board," Jim replied brokenly. His breath hitched at the press of lips against his hair, and the doctor’s warmth and steady hands were the last thing he remembered before sliding into sleep.

~oOo~

They'd been back on Earth for several days before McCoy's grief caught up with him.  Jim spent his days in meetings with members of the brass about his captaincy while McCoy worked shifts at Starfleet Medical. Jim grew uneasy one day when McCoy failed to reply to comms and when he let himself into their too-quiet dorm that evening, Jim felt a crackling tension in the silence of their darkened quarters. He found McCoy on the futon in the living room, head and shoulders bowed, elbows resting against his knees. He didn't move or speak as Jim sat beside him, though a tremor ran through his body when Jim laid a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.

"Bones?"

"I met Darren's parents today," McCoy said, his voice low. "They came to pick up his things and wanted to meet me. Said Darren ... was looking forward to introducing us sometime soon."

Jim sighed, his hand moving in circles over McCoy's taut muscles, an ache working its way through his chest.

"I can't stop thinking that it could have been my Ma, Jim, instead of Darren's." McCoy raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. "Or that this all could have been gone, everyone here, _everything_ just gone--"

"I know, Bones." Jim turned, sliding his arms over McCoy's neck and shoulders, pulling him into a hug. His lips pressed tightly together when McCoy practically folded against him, his head slotting into the space between Jim's jaw and shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bones. I’m so sorry."

McCoy's body tensed. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, kid," he said, his wavering voice fierce. "We'd all be gone if not for you."

Jim's eyes closed, pain flaring inside him at his friend’s gratitude. It was humbling and cut him to the quick. "I'm sorry that you're hurting and that you lost friends, Bones. I'll never stop being sorry about that."

"We all lost friends, Jim, and people we loved, you included."

Jim nodded, falling silent as he rubbed McCoy's shoulder with one hand, that one word-- _love_ \--echoing louder and louder in his mind. He opened his mouth more than once to speak, but it was a while before he managed to get the words past his lips.

“I'm sorry about Darren, Bones,” he whispered. His heart clenched when McCoy reached up to cover Jim's hand with his own, their fingers twining together in the dark.

"Me too." McCoy's voice was sad and certain. "He was a good man. I wish I'd done right by him. And now it's too late."

Jim frowned at the doctor's words. "What are you talking about? You were good to him, Bones--"

"Darren deserved better, Jim," McCoy interrupted, his voice quiet. "It wasn't his fault. I was the problem."

The two men for silent for a long moment as Jim processed his friend's words. "I didn't know there was a problem, Bones," he admitted finally. "You seemed really happy together."

McCoy's chuckle was sad. "We were. Or I was, anyway. Darren wanted more. He was _ready_ for more and I couldn't give it him."

"I thought ... " Jim began, trailing off as uncertainty and--yes--fear of McCoy's answer filtered through him. Swallowing, he forced himself to speak. "You loved him, didn't you, Bones?

McCoy sighed. “Not enough.”

Jim fought to control the sudden, wild relief he felt at McCoy's words, and was abruptly thankful for the darkness that hid his expression. His stomach fell as the initial reaction was followed immediately by bewilderment and guilt; what kind of asshole felt _anything_ but awful at moments like this?

"Doesn't mean you weren't good to him, Bones," he rasped finally, "or even that Darren was the right one for you. I say that with respect for the guy, by the way," he murmured when McCoy made a soft noise of protest. "I liked him, Bones. I did. Even though his taste in music was as terrible as yours."

He smiled when McCoy let out a broken laugh and squeezed his hand tightly.

"Thanks, kid."

"Anytime, Bones."

~oOo~

McCoy stayed single for a while after the _Narada_. In part, his duties as CMO aboard the _Enterprise_ were to blame; off-planet missions had a way of eating up an officer's time, something Jim knew better than anyone.

McCoy also needed time to heal. Outwardly, he was as steady and dependable as ever, but Jim knew the doctor was haunted by the many near misses they had all endured at Nero's hands and that he grieved for the loss of friends and people he'd cared for. The shadows of that grief in McCoy's eyes kept Jim from examining his changing feelings for his friend very closely. He didn't mind waiting, though. In spite of everything that had happened only a few months before, Jim felt sure there was time for both McCoy and himself to be ready.

They were on Earth for shore leave when McCoy's demeanor changed. His smiles grew more frequent and his metaphors more outrageous, and damned if the man didn't skip out on dinner when the officers gathered together.

"Okay, Len, spill it," Uhura said, her dark eyes dancing as McCoy slid into the booth beside her. They had congregated at Abbott's for their last night of leave, and the CMO's absence at dinner had been especially glaring.

McCoy's mouth quirked up in a grin that Jim knew well. "No idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant."

Uhura's gaze grew steely while Sulu and Scotty chuckled. "We missed you at dinner," she said, brows arching high when Jim nodded.

"There was pecan pie for dessert, Bones--you really missed out," Jim added, grinning when McCoy's face fell.

"That's three missed dinners since we've been here, Doctor," Scotty chimed in.

"Don't forget ze breakfast on Tuesday," Chekov piped, cheeks turning pink when McCoy scowled.

"Jeeze, Bones, whatcha been up to?" Jim asked, feigning wide-eyed ignorance so broadly that even Spock's lips twitched.

"I've been up to the usual," McCoy replied calmly. "Takin' names and kickin' ass, a Leonard McCoy specialty." He smiled when his crew-mates laughed.

"If you really must know, I grabbed a bite with some friends at 'fleet Medical,"  McCoy shot a wink at Jim before turning to look toward the bar. "Tragically, the hospital cafeteria _still_ doesn't serve booze, though, so I may just hypo someone to get a drink."

Jim knew that McCoy wasn’t telling them something, and that didn't sit well; the doctor wasn't one for keeping secrets, and particularly from Jim. He fixed a smile on his face, though, and--once McCoy had secured a beer--turned his attention to the pretty girls with the long, curling tails at the next table.

~oOo~

Back aboard the _Enterprise_ , the crew fell into their roles with ease, routines well established despite their relatively short time in service together. Jim noticed an increase in McCoy's sub-space communications requests as the stardates passed, but took his cues from McCoy and stayed silent on the matter. It only stung a little.

They were in orbit over Earth following the Nibiru debacle when the doctor finally cracked.

"You free for dinner, Bones?" Jim asked as they exited the bridge to board the lift. "I know you're still pissed off about the whole running-for-our-lives-and-you-hate-me thing--"

"I don't hate you, Jim."

"You're still pissed, though."

"A little," McCoy admitted, "but I'll get over it--I always do."

Jim smirked. "I know. Where should we eat?"

"I'm meeting some friends for dinner, actually," McCoy hedged, lips pursing when Jim's expression grew curious. "Feel like grabbing a drink beforehand?"

"Why not?" Jim pushed down the hint of dread that pinged through his chest at the sweet, almost shy smile that passed over McCoy's face. "Meet you in the transporter room in twenty."

~oOo~

They had cocktails at one of McCoy's favorite restaurants, chatting for an hour before Jim learned that by _some friends_ McCoy actually meant _a date_ and that said date came in the form of Commander Suresh Sankar, head of the Viral Studies Center at Starfleet Medical.

"Suresh and I were in some of the same classes at the Academy," McCoy explained as Jim and Sankar shook hands. "He was a year ahead of us and on the _Bradbury_ by the time you and I graduated, Jim. We ran into each other during our last shore leave."

The warmth in Sankar's dark eyes as he looked at McCoy made Jim's spine stiffen. The Commander was tall and broad, like McCoy, and the steel grey of his dress uniform set off his dark skin and patrician features beautifully.

"I should confess that I asked Len out for a drink that first time because I hoped to steal him from you, Captain." Sankar grinned as McCoy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It was my intention to lure him back to Earth and Starfleet Medical."

Jim's looked from Sankar to McCoy--who had the good grace to look abashed--with a smile of his own. "You've been holding out on me, Doctor McCoy."

"I'm sure that's because he turned me down flat--refused to even entertain an offer, no matter what angle I pushed," Sankar offered, shrugging when Jim looked at him again.  "Len tells me that you know him better than almost anyone, Captain Kirk, so I'm sure you are familiar with his abilities as a doctor. Surely you understand why 'fleet Medical is eager to welcome Len as part of our faculty rather than have him risk his neck out there in the black."

Jim nodded slowly. "I understand completely," he murmured, gaze shifting back to McCoy, who now looked both dismayed and uncertain. "I also trust that Doctor McCoy knows what is best for himself." He gave his friend a gentle smile. "And I hope that he would not hesitate to tell me if and when his desire to serve as CMO aboard the _Enterprise_ is at an end."

"I'm right here, y'know." The tips of McCoy's ears flushed pink as he raised his glass. "When the hell have you ever known me to be shy, Captain? If I want to step down as CMO, you'll be the first person I tell. I'm not exactly a wallflower," he muttered before taking a long sip of his drink.

Sankar laughed quietly, his eyes following McCoy's movements. "Even I know that, Len, and I only see you once every couple of weeks."

Jim's smile thinned. "Have you been trying to recruit my CMO all this time, Commander? If so, I'd say that maybe your pitch needs some work."

Sankar shook his head. "Not at all. I told you: Len turned me down that first night, before I'd even finished speaking. Once we got business out of the way, I remembered how much I had always enjoyed his company when we were at the Academy." He chuckled when McCoy rolled his eyes.

"We had dinner and drinks a few times, kept talking after I shipped out," McCoy explained, lips curling up again in that shy smile that made Jim's heart feel like it was cracking. "I still say he's a fool for trying when he _knows_ I'm only dirtside a couple of times a year." 

"Fine, I'm a fool." Sankar shrugged, his disgruntled tone making Jim's jaw clench. "Maybe I _haven't_ given up on you changing your mind and coming to work with me, but you blame a guy for trying, right, Captain?" he asked, eyes turning to Jim.

"Right," Jim replied quietly.

Sankar nodded, his gaze sharpening before he looked at McCoy again. "You know the old saying about some things being worth the wait."

McCoy groaned and glared. "For Christ's sake, Suresh, did you suffer a head injury on your way over here? Stop running your goddamned mouth in front of my C.O."

Sankar laughed, head tipped back while one hand came up to rest against the nape of McCoy's neck. Jim swallowed past the tightness in his throat, painfully aware that McCoy's hazel eyes were sparkling with pleasure in spite of his scowl.

Jim forced himself to finish his drink before making his excuse to leave. He slid his cover onto his head and made his way out of the restaurant, his communicator out before he had reached the sidewalk. His breath caught when a terse message from McCoy flashed across the screen.

McCoy, L: _I'm not quitting._

Jim licked his lips, eyes locked on the words as he focused on breathing in and out. Long moments later, he was moving again, comm'ing the Caitian twins he'd met on that last shore leave and putting as much space as he could between himself and the friend he'd left inside.

~oOo~

Jim was in almost constant motion that night and the days that followed. He was running as his ship was taken, as Pike threw him (another) lifeline, as Harrison blew Starfleet HQ to hell—always running, even when standing perfectly still. Even as the shock of losing Pike made him falter, Jim's mind and heart were racing, through the darkest hours of that sleepless night into a cold dawn when Spock's voice jolted his body back into action.

Every moment Jim spent running and hardening himself against the fear and pain  threatening to overwhelm him was a moment he wasn't failing. He pushed his crew, his friends, and especially McCoy away, shutting all of them out every time they tried to bridge the gap widening between their captain and themselves. It hurt Jim to do it, but he couldn't slow down, not even when his body and brain screamed at him to stop, to rest, to breathe.

He couldn't stop. Jim was running on borrowed time and he knew it. Borrowed time to fix the warp core, to recoup after the Klingon ambush on Qo'nos, to even _begin_ understanding the man in the brig who called himself John Harrison. Borrowed time to figure out how the _fuck_ McCoy--the best friend Jim had ever known--wound up on a planetoid with his arm mashed inside a torpedo, curtly counting down the seconds to his own death.

"You scared the shit out of me, Bones," Jim murmured when McCoy was safely back on board, wasting seconds he needed to question Harrison but unable to bring himself to care.

McCoy's brow creased with concern, his eyes shining green in the glare of the medbay's lights. Neither man acknowledged the purpling bruise on his arm or the fine tremor in Jim's hand as it rested on McCoy's shoulder.

"I'm fine, kid." McCoy shook his head when Jim opened his mouth to argue. "I'm okay, really."

Jim swallowed, lips in a tight line as McCoy placed the hand of his uninjured arm on Jim's waist with a feather light touch. All at once, Jim could really breathe. He inhaled sharply, almost swaying on his feet, his exhausted body threatening to collapse like a house of cards into the warm comfort of McCoy's broad hand.

"I'm sorry, Bones."

The trust in McCoy's eyes cracked Jim wide open. Even now, after Jim had nearly gotten him killed, McCoy trusted him, trusted his friend and Captain to be strong and smart and brave, not to let him down.

"Go on now, Captain," McCoy said gently, his fingers pressing into Jim's flesh.

Jim nodded, brushing his knuckles against the side of the doctor's neck before he darted out of the medbay, racing once more against time and the silent fire of the stars around them.

~oOo~

Jim carried the look he'd seen in McCoy's eyes with him into the warp core and the darkness that followed.

When Jim woke again, McCoy's eyes (bright with tears) were among the first things he saw.

~oOo~

Cover tucked under his arm, Jim walked into the function hall, nodding at fellow officers in greeting, pausing occasionally as people stopped to clasp his hand and say hello. He stopped at the bar to order a drink, eyes always moving as he spoke with colleagues and admirers, scanning the room for a familiar, broad-shouldered figure. It wasn't until he spied a cluster of comfortable chairs in a quiet corner that he found the man he'd been searching for.

McCoy was seated alone with an untouched glass on the table at his side, facing away from the reception, eyes fixed on the skyline visible through the wall of windows before him. As Jim drew closer, he took in the slight droop in McCoy's bearing, the unfamiliar sharpness in his features, and the tight set of his mouth.

The man glanced away from the windows as Jim sat down, his eyes widening before he blinked and straightened in his seat. Jim couldn't hold back a grin at McCoy’s stunned--but not unhappy--expression.

"Hey, Bones."

"Jim," McCoy replied. "What are you doing here? I thought ... I'm surprised to see you," he admitted, his features warming for a second before his brow creased and he leaned forward in his seat, his expression and voice tight. "Is something wrong? You okay?"

Jim swallowed at McCoy's obvious anxiety. "At ease, Doctor," he soothed. "Nothing's wrong and I'm fine."

McCoy's expression was still dark as he sank back in his chair. "Is that an order?"

"I'd make it one if I thought it'd do you any good."

"It'd certainly piss me off."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Bones--according to your Ma, you were born pissed off."

"She's always been prone to hyperbole," McCoy muttered, "another reason the two of you get along so well." Most of the tension faded from his face, leaving him looking tired and wan. "I'm guessing you didn't come dirtside to swap insults with me, Jim. Is there something you need or are you just here for the party?"

"I’m not here for the party. I'm here to see you, Bones," Jim admitted. "Spock told me you were planning to be here tonight."

McCoy grunted. "Well. That explains why that emotionless hack hasn't said more than three words to me since we got here."

"Vulcans do not lie," Jim intoned, his impression of his First Officer bringing a faint smile to McCoy's lips.

"Vulcans sure as hell can fake it, then, or at least Spock can. I blame you."

Jim laughed, his body warming when the corners of McCoy's lips lifted slightly higher. "Same shit, different day, Bones." 

An approaching waiter interrupted their banter and the doctor lapsed into silence once more as Jim ordered a drink. Glancing toward the bar, Jim spotted Spock and Uhura, as well as another familiar face. He held Suresh Sankar's gaze for a long moment, reading concern on the other man's face before Sankar looked away.

When he turned back to his friend, Jim's heart grew heavy. After years of living almost out of each other's pockets, he knew Leonard McCoy too well not to see how hard his friend was struggling. That it had taken something as mundane as routine paperwork to finally get his attention filled Jim with shame.

McCoy had been understandably exhausted in the days following Khan's attempt to knock the _Enterprise_ out of the sky--every member of the crew had been bruised and battered and truly worn out. Jim's CMO, however, had been burdened with the additional crushing task of bringing his friend back from the dead. Hardly missing a beat, McCoy had worked with unfailing focus and steady hands, driving himself tirelessly until he was convinced the job was done, and Jim was out of danger.

Now, those capable hands seemed never to be still, running continuously over the glass of bourbon McCoy wasn't drinking while one knee jumped. He looked careworn with his too loose uniform and shadowed eyes, and as McCoy turned his head, Jim swore he saw threads of silver running through his dark hair.

Words churned through Jim's brain, dying on his tongue each time he tried to speak, while McCoy sat silent, eyes fixed on the skyline, ignoring both Jim and the waiter who placed a glass of Jack Daniel's on the table between their chairs.

Finally, Jim cupped his drink between his palms and forced himself to speak. "What's going on, Bones?" he asked, eyes fixed on McCoy's face until he looked Jim’s way.

"Something you wanna know in particular, Jim, or is that a blanket inquiry?"

Jim frowned at the lack of heat behind the snarky words. "Consider it a blanket inquiry. I would like to know, though, why I had to find out that you were seeing a counselor via internal memo rather than from you directly."

McCoy said nothing, the silence stretching longer and longer until Jim thought the man might not answer at all. He was almost startled when McCoy looked away again, his quiet voice absolutely audible to Jim's ears.

"I've been seeing Liz Dehner for a little while now. You know that from the memo. Liz is treating me for depression and moderate PTSD. "

Jim nodded in understanding. Most of the _Enterprise_ crew were at risk for PTSD in some form; most of them had served at the Battle for Vulcan as well as during Khan's bid to retaliate against Starfleet. Jim and his senior officers were at even higher risk.

"How bad, Bones?" he asked gently.

"Bad enough to get my ass in gear," McCoy admitted. " I couldn't shut my brain off. Couldn’t sleep, had trouble focusing, lots of mood swings … nightmares.” Jim didn’t need to ask what kind of demons haunted McCoy’s sleep. “Nyota and Suresh finally talked me into making an appointment with Liz. Even Spock encouraged me to talk to someone, believe it or not."

Jim said nothing, though his brows jumped as McCoy's gaze shifted his way. He smirked at Jim.

"No one was more surprised than I was, trust me," he said his voice wry.

"I beg to differ," Jim murmured, taking a long sip of his drink.

"From what I gather, Spock finds a certain ... comfort in consistency, or at least insofar as he can take comfort in _anything_." McCoy's voice was gentle as he spoke of the Vulcan with whom he'd argued so passionately (in their lopsided way) on many occasions. "Spock made it clear that he would prefer I continue serving on the _Enterprise_ to the best of my abilities. I realized it was going to be hard to do that unless I got my head on straight."

Jim took a moment to digest his friend's words. "Why didn't you tell me, Bones? I think ... yeah, I think I deserve that much, don't you?"

"I haven't seen you in six weeks, Jim.” McCoy's tiny, melancholy smile made Jim feel raw. “Other than vid briefings with the crew when you're in orbit, anyway. I'm not ashamed of what I'm going through, but I didn't want to talk about it during a staff meeting, either."

Guilt clawed at Jim's insides as he struggled to find the right words. He _had_ been off-planet a lot since being cleared for active duty; there was so much to do with his ship in space dock and his crew scattered all over earth and the black. Jim needed and wanted to be involved, but it meant that he rarely saw McCoy outside of video feeds.

"You could have comm'd me, Bones. We talk almost every day—”

“I didn't _want_ to comm you, Jim, not with this." McCoy’s too-calm protest underscored his words. He blew out a long breath, eyes dropping to study the glass by his hand. "I didn't know how to tell you unless I could say it to your face. I didn't want to wait, though, not once I'd committed to the idea. When the appointment with Liz came up, I took it."

He shrugged, brows drawing together as he looked up, a frown working its way across his face. "I thought maybe I’d be able to catch you before the paperwork went through but I didn’t make it. I should have told you. I'm sorry, Jim."

The men watched one another for several silent moments. Jim knew McCoy was contrite. He also knew that their conversation had just begun.

"You hungry?" He cocked his head as McCoy gave him a blank look. "I didn't get a chance to eat before I beamed down," he explained, "and you look like you could use a cheeseburger or two, Bones. What do you say we get out of here and hit the diner near your place?"

McCoy chewed his lip for a moment, his hesitation sending a dull ache through Jim.

“We can order takeout, if you want,” he urged, smiling when McCoy’s expression shifted. “Or, hey, is there any food to cook at your place? Let me make you breakfast.”

“I don't have much at home,” McCoy replied before waving at the party going on behind them. “You don’t want to stay? You just got back, Jim--I’m sure there’s a lot of people who want to talk to you.”

“Probably,” Jim agreed before draining the rest of his drink. With a smile he picked the two covers up from the cocktail table and got to his feet, holding McCoy’s out to him when McCoy stood. “I told you, though: I didn’t come for the party. I came to see you … and to eat as much unsynthesized food as possible while I have the chance.”

"Okay then."

~oOo~

They sat on McCoy’s couch, Jim eating a thoroughly decadent burger and fries while McCoy picked at his turkey club, and talked. There was plenty of news of the _Enterprise_ and how far her repairs had progressed, but Jim steered away from talk of work, steadily focusing the conversation on McCoy instead.

Haltingly, McCoy described the insomnia that had begun during Jim’s three-week stay at Starfleet Medical and worsened until he counted himself lucky to get two or three hours of sleep in a night. Sleep aids proved useless and what little rest McCoy did get was plagued by awful dreams.

“You were my roommate, Jim—you know how much I like to sleep. I’m good at it, too.” McCoy’s lips twisted, though the grin didn’t reach his eyes. “I knew something was wrong. It was manageable while you were still around and I could keep an eye on you. When you went out there again ..." McCoy trailed off with a shrug, looking embarrassed for the first time. " I was actually relieved to start seeing Liz,” he admitted, voice gruff.

Jim leaned forward, wiping his fingers and lips on a napkin while staring at McCoy’s uneaten food. He glanced up to meet his friend’s uneasy gaze.  “She’s helping?”

McCoy nodded at once. “Yeah. We tried some meds, but they make my hands shake. Talking is okay, though ... makes it anxiety easier to deal with . I don’t dream as much now. I sleep more. Sometimes I'm hungry. Things are getting better.”

“I’m glad,” Jim murmured, reaching forward to cover one of McCoy’s hands with his own when the man cast down his eyes. “I was worried when that memo hit my PADD, Bones.”

McCoy’s head snapped up, the expression on his face determined. “I’m fit for duty, Jim, as both a doctor and an officer. I asked Liz to evaluate me during our first week, and she agrees with me. I’ll be ready when the _Enterprise_ ships out, if you still want me.”

“I’ve never considered anything else.” Eyes on McCoy’s, Jim took both of his friend’s hands in his. “You’re the heart of the crew, Bones—it wouldn’t be the same without you. If you want the job, it’s yours, you know that. I'm more concerned about _you_ than your job.”

McCoy looked down at their joined hands. “That’s ... good to hear, Jim. Thanks.”

Jim ran his thumbs gently over the backs of McCoy’s hands, drawing soothing circles onto McCoy’s skin as the tension leaked out of the doctor's frame. Jim weighed his words for long moments before speaking again.

“It's good to hear that you still want to come out with me, Bones.”

McCoy cocked his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jim dropped one of McCoy’s hands and held his fist up, uncurling his fingers as he listed reasons for McCoy to stay behind. “You hate flying. You hate replicated food. You hate away missions. You hate _space_ , Bones, and that’s where we’re going as soon as the _Enterprise_ is ready to fly.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” McCoy rolled his eyes, gently pulling free before standing to gather up the remains of their meals and walking to the kitchen with Jim trailing behind him.

“Come on, Bones, it’s the truth.”

“ _Some_ of it is the truth, Jim, but none of it is enough to keep me from doing what I pledged to do. What I _want_ to do.” With brisk movements, McCoy slid everything into the recycler and turned to the sink to wash his hands. The frown was back on his handsome features and he looked more exhausted than ever. “Any idiot can get by on replicated food and figure out how to deal with away missions. My fear of space thing isn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.”

“You’re a liar, Bones,” Jim retorted. “Just because you don’t throw up on me anymore when we fly doesn’t mean you hate it any less.”

“Yeah, but, as I said, I learned how to work my way through it. I'm not going to let it ground me, Jim.”

“What about your research with the Viral Studies Center?” Jim persisted, unsure why it suddenly felt as though they were arguing. “I hear you’ve got a good thing going there. Are you going to tell me you won’t miss it?”

“Sure I’ll miss the work,” McCoy allowed as he ran his hands under the dryer. “The work has been really, really good. One of the studies I’ve been running is ready for trials.”

“Bones.” Jim stepped forward, licking his lips as his chest practically expanded with pride for his friend’s success. “Congratulations, man, that is fantastic.”

“Thanks,” McCoy replied with a small but genuine smile. “There’s no reason I can’t do the same kind research on the _Enterprise._ Spockand the other Science Officers will be there to work on the team and I actually do have spare time, believe it or not, at least when you and your merry band of bozos aren’t getting into trouble.”

“What about Sankar?”

“What about him?”

“He’s another thing you’ll miss, Bones, and I have to tell you--I actually feel a little bit guilty taking that away from you.” And wasn’t that the bitch of the whole thing? Because Jim _did_ feel guilty. He knew that McCoy deserved a chance to be happy. That knowledge was cold comfort when Jim thought about going into the black without McCoy at his side.

McCoy looked bewildered. “Jim, I’m really no good with mixed messages and you are throwing a fuckton of them at me right now. Do you want me on the _Enterprise_ or not?”

“You know I do.”

“Okay then. How about you let me make the decisions about my own life and how I live it? I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time y’know.”

Jim bit back the smile that threatened at McCoy’s almost full-on glower—it had been far too long since he’d seen his friend scowl with such feeling. “You’re right.”

“You bet your ass I’m right. And if I wanted a thing with Suresh Sankar then I’d have one, not that it’s any of your business, Jim,” he added, stalking away while Jim followed, out of the kitchen and through the apartment, finally ending up in McCoy’s bedroom.

“Hang on--you’re not seeing Sankar anymore?” Jim asked.

“No, I’m not,” McCoy replied, the irritation that had been on his face the moment before gone. With a sigh, he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning to prop his elbows on his knees. “We stopped seeing each other after the _Enterprise_ went into spacedock.”

Jim heard McCoy’s unspoken words clearly. “ _After_ _you died.”_

“I just … there was too much going on,” McCoy murmured, “hell, I hardly saw the inside of this apartment never mind Suresh. It wasn’t fair to him. And working on trying to build a romance wasn't what I needed to be doing … or _wanted_ to be doing.”

Silently, Jim sat down, watching his friend, taking in the unhappy way McCoy’s lips pursed and the fidget of his clasped hands.

“And now?” Jim asked, voice hushed. “You’ve been working your ass off ever since I met you, Bones. Isn’t it time you focused on yourself for once?”

McCoy chuckled, one hand coming up to gently press his fingers against his eyelids. “Jesus, Jim. Right now, that is all I’m doing: focusing on myself.”

Gently, Jim nudged the doctor’s shoulder with his own, aware of how very fragile his friend seemed. "How's that going?”

“It sucks so bad.”

McCoy’s pained groan made it impossible not to laugh. Jim let it roll through him, along with a familiar wave of affection and warmth. Slinging his arms around McCoy’s shoulders, Jim pressed his forehead to the doctor’s temple, throat aching as he felt McCoy trembling with suppressed emotion and nerves. When Jim thought of McCoy suffering alone, of the losses the man had endured and kept to himself out of respect for Jim’s own struggles, he felt sure he might cry.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you, Bones.”

McCoy shook his head, leaning into Jim’s touch though his eyes stayed stubbornly closed. “It’s okay, Jim.”

“It isn’t,” Jim retorted. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Bones, and you’ve saved me in more ways than you know. I'm sorry I let you down.”

“You didn't,” McCoy muttered, his body relaxing degree by slow degree against Jim’s. “You weren’t exactly in any shape to deal with my problems anyway, not that I’d have expected you to.”

Jim fought the impulse to shake McCoy until he saw sense. “That’s part of the problem, you stubborn son of a bitch," he argued. "You _should_ expect me to be there for you, _should_ expect me to help if you need it.”

Pulling back, Jim placed his hands on McCoy’s shoulders, gently turning the man to face him. “You don’t have to go through everything alone, Bones. I don’t want you to.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Jim.” McCoy’s voice was ragged.

Jim’s hands moved, skimming along the sides of McCoy’s neck, fingers brushing over the racing flutter of his pulse before framing his face, the fine line of McCoy’s jaw resting in Jim’s palms.

“I know exactly what I’m saying, Bones. I just don’t think you're hearing me. I want to be there, Bones. For you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Jim’s quiet words struck something in McCoy, and the man’s lids finally lifted. Jim inhaled sharply at the pain and fear he saw in McCoy's gaze, all mixed up with hope and yearning and what Jim _knew_ was love. His heart soared.

"Why?" McCoy asked on a breath. "Why now?"

"Because I almost missed my chance to fix this," Jim told him. "I always thought we'd have more time, Bones. That I needed more time. Or that I was too late. Now … I don't know what I was waiting for."

This time, when Jim Kirk kissed Leonard McCoy, he was ready for the rush; he craved it, and had for far too long. This time, Jim's body responded and he let himself fall, let himself savor the slow, sweet slide of McCoy’s mouth against his, let the heat wash through him and pull a groan from deep in his chest. This time, Jim wasn't afraid.

“Bones,” he whispered against the other man’s lips, pleasure pulsing in his body, skin tingling wherever McCoy’s lips or tongue or fingers touched. The doctor groaned, long and deep, and the sound made Jim’s cock harden to the point of aching.

“Oh, Bones,” he said again, forcing himself to pull back, the name on his tongue a plea and a promise and a prayer.

Neither man spoke for long moments, their breaths harsh and loud in the silence.

"So it's like that, huh, Jimmy?" McCoy finally asked his voice hoarse and filled with wonder.

“It’s exactly like that, Bones,” Jim managed, smiling when McCoy nodded.

"Me too." McCoy’s face shone, his expression both broken and radiant as he closed the distance between them to kiss Jim again.

~oOo~

Jim’s eyes snapped open without warning. He blinked at the room around him, unsure of where he was for a moment until warm fingers cupped his cheek with exquisite softness. He blinked again, remembering waking in the impossible white of the hospital, exhaustion wringing every cell, a low voice murmuring soothingly, familiar eyes flashing green and gold, and a broad, warm hand against his cheek.

_Bones._

“You all right?” McCoy rumbled, lips twitching up at the corners when Jim covered the hand on his cheek with his own and frowned at the fatigue he saw in McCoy’s face.

They’d been up late talking, taking time to kiss and touch, offering each other the comfort they’d held back for so long. McCoy had turned tentative when Jim suggested they sleep though, the ghosts of his insecurities and recent struggles rising up without warning. Jim took the lead, helping McCoy undress and into bed before stripping down to his boxers and crawling in too. He’d fallen asleep with McCoy in his arms, the doctor’s head settled on his shoulder, his long arms curled around Jim’s waist.

“M’fine,” Jim said now. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” McCoy assured him. “I have the day off today, so I can sleep in. Or try to.” His expression was amused. “I’d forgotten how active you are when you dream.

“Shit.” Jim grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Been a while since I had to share a bed with you, kid.”

“That’s on you, Bones--not my fault it took you years to get with the goddamned program,” Jim drawled, biting back a laugh at McCoy’s snort of disgust. Without warning, he reached for the doctor in a rush of movement and emotion, pulling McCoy close to kiss him and humming when the man wrapped him up in a hug, kissing Jim back for all he was worth.

They were panting, legs tangled and not a centimeter of space between them when they finally surfaced. Jim was pleased to note that he was not the only one with shaky hands. He trailed the lightest of kisses over McCoy’s plush lips until the doctor sighed. McCoy wrapped the fingers of one hand around the nape of Jim’s neck while the other snaked under Jim’s arm, pressing flat over his spine.

“When do you leave?” he murmured, his long lashes throwing shadows against his cheeks.

“Tomorrow,” Jim told him, waiting until McCoy met his eyes before continuing. “But I’ll be back in two days. Repairs to the _Enterprise_ are moving ahead of schedule, thanks to Scotty, so Spock and I are going to alternate forty-eight hours shifts on board with forty-eight hours off here on Earth at HQ, overlapping one day in between no matter where we are. I need to be here on Earth, too, and so does Spock."

Jim smiled at the soft look in McCoy’s eyes. “Can I see you on my days here, Bones? If you can tear yourself away from the lab, I mean.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” McCoy replied, though the shyness seemed to be creeping back. “I don’t really know how to do this with you, Jim. It’s been so long … I’m not sure how--”

Jim shook his head and smiled. “We’ll figure it out. As long as you want to, Bones.”

“Yeah, I do,” McCoy replied with more certainty. He leaned in for a kiss and smiled when Jim pushed him against the pillows to kiss him back.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as one thing and became another ... not uncommon for me, I'm afraid. Also my first crack at a Jim POV.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics to Massive Attack’s 'I Against I' featuring Mos Def
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely MouldingBrain for beta'ing and offering advice and encouragement.


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